You were sorting through files in the evidence room, the paper and evidence of the last case was spread around in front of you. You sighed as you tried to decipher, your husband, Chris LaSalle's handwriting. It looked as if a spider had fallen in ink and stumbled across the pages. Sighing, you pinched at the bridge of your nose before moving to rub your temples. You moved to check your phone, no calls or texts. It wasn't unusual for either you or Chris, you would both get tunnel vision while working. You checked the time, nearly lunch, deciding to call Chris to see if he or the team wanted lunch.
The phone rang a few times, before Chris picked up. "Hey, Sugar-bell. I was just thinking about you." You snorted, "Yeah, right. I was wondering if Pride is blocked on a case and is therefore cooking something heavenly, or if you wanted me to bring lunch?" There was a small amount of silence on Chris' side of the line. "Can you bring lunch?" You grinned, "Yeah. I was thinking Italian, that okay?" Chris exhaled on the other side, "That sounds wonderful, Sugar." You stayed on the phone gathering the orders from the various team members, you were committing them to memory. You heard muffed gunshots. "Chris?"
"Yeah, baby?"
"Someone is breaking into the evidence storage." Chris swore, and you heard the tell-tale signs of the team gearing up. You placed the phone between your ear and shoulder and grabbed your own gun. You raised it and pointed at the locked door. You rolled your shoulders, ready to fight, crouching behind a desk provided some cover. The door was flung open as Chris gave how far away the team was. Bullets flew at the invaders and some were fired back. There were dull thuds as they hit the wall behind you before there was the sound of a bullet ripping through skin. It had always reminded you of a raisin falling into a glass of milk. You shrieked slightly and dropped the phone. Chris's yells were heard before a boot crunched your phone silencing your husband. You were grabbed roughly and on your open wound before a needle was injected into your skin, slowing your motions entirely, rendering you unconscious.
Chris swore and kicked at your desk which splinted under his abuse. Your gun and destroyed phone were behind it along with sizeable puddle of blood. "I want these guys, King." His Alabama accent coming in heavy due to his rage. Chris' eyes narrowed, "I want them." Pride nodded.
The next few hours, Chris was hellbent on getting to you. The hours were spent with him kicking down leads and swearing to find you. He had tried and failed to keep his emotions in check, but it didn't work. His anger built up, not at you at the men who had you. He would do what ever he had to do to find you.
He found you, well, Sebastian found you from a scattering of seeds left behind at the crime scene. You heard the gunshots and hoped that it was Chris. The door was flung open and it jumped backwards when it hit the wall behind it. Chris swept you into his arms as soon as you had been freed. He stayed still, hugging the breath out of you. "I love you." He whispered into your hair.